All Part of the Training
by xCaligula's Commissions
Summary: One of Gai's ridiculous, self-inflicted punishments goes a little farther than he'd planned. Warning: You know the drill, contains omorashi.


**A/N: So, someone wrote a lovely story for me as part of a trade. This is my half, and I hope she likes it as much as I liked hers.**

It was another ridiculous punishment. Another special sort of endurance training that he absolutely had to fulfill because he had lost his most recent skirmish with Kakashi, and he was a man of his word. Therefore, Maito Gai had set aside the day to work improving his bladder capacity and endurance.

It was not a challenge he did often, but the strength of one's body was important to him and he knew that every part of the body had to be at top capacity. And that meant that his bladder had to be strong enough to last throughout any fight and any mission, no matter what.

But every man had his limits, and every now and then, Gai would work towards extending his to ensure that he was at the top of his game. So, when it came time to determine his punishment, he figured that it was about time to check and see if he had come any farther in that regard.

As per usual, he started out his morning with more to drink than he would under normal circumstances. He was, of course, a firm believer in proper hydration, so he had to add on several extra glasses of water to really have any effect. Even with the extra, he still left the house without feeling anything.

He took off toward the training grounds at a light spring after doing some warm up stretches. The liquid finally started to make its way to his bladder as he ran, but the minor twinges were nowhere near what he had dealt with in the past and he knew it would be quite some time before the real challenge began.

After about an hour of running laps, the pressure had built to a dull ache in his bladder and if he were at home, this would be the time that he would go ahead to the bathroom to avoid further complications. But that was not the case, and he instead shoved the need to the back of his mind as he began practicing combat with the training dummies.

This went on without event for quite some time, but as he went to land a kick, a sudden twinge surprised him and he missed, almost following but managing to regain his balance catch himself just in time. Finally, it was really starting to affect him. Still, he refused to let it distract him, and turned his focus back to his sparring.

As the twinges from his bladder started to become more and more frequent, he would pause and jiggle his legs until he felt better, then resume, and inevitably repeat the process. Still, he was nowhere near his limit and he would continue to endure it until he absolutely could not wait a second long, and _then_ he would go.

He had never pushed himself beyond his breaking point before, always stopping in the night of time, barely managing to get out of his jumpsuit before letting go. He hoped that today it would take him longer to reach said breaking point, and he began concocting punishments for himself if he couldn't make it until a certain time.

Eventually the twinges and dull ache were replaced by a throb that made his stops to regain his composure more frequent. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he contemplated what to do now. Combat practice was becoming too problematic, so he had to find something else to do.

He dropped to the ground and began doing push ups. He started out with both hands, then switched to doing it one handed, alternating between hands as he went. He found that this did not add any pressure to his bladder and was the easiest for him to do as he felt it continue to fill and swell even beyond the point that he thought possible. He felt like he could burst, but, rationally, he knew that he had quite a ways to go before his limit, and quite a ways to go before his personal goal.

He felt himself grow thirsty, and wanted to curse himself for that. He knew that if he drank more now, that would make things worse, but if he let himself get dehydrated, that would only hinder the rest of his training. So, despite his bladder practically begging him not to, he paused his push ups to take a few sips from the water bottle he had brought with him.

It was as he was drinking that it happened- he leaked a bit. He was so surprised by this that he reflexively grabbed himself to stop any more from escaping, though nothing else did. He had not expected that to happen, as it had never happened in the past with exercises like this. Finally, he removed his hand and got back to work, but he was a bit more wary.

When he leaked a second time, he stopped his push ups altogether, feeling slightly panicked. There was a small, dark spot at his crotch from this, and he wondered if he was already at his limit. But there was no way that he could give up now! He had not even beaten his record for the previous time, much less met his personal goal for the day! Squirming around in place, he resolved to wait it out a bit longer and try to meet the goal.

But there was no way that he could continue his training. He had to focus everything on the task at hand, and he crossed and uncrossed his legs as he wiggled and squirmed, biting the inside of his cheek. It was painful to hold for this long, and he wished that time would move quicker so that he could finally relieve himself. Another leak caused his hands to return to his crotch, and this time he decided not to let go.

His movements became jerkier and more frantic as time ticked on, and he grit his teeth. It seemed that he could not go a few minutes without leaking again, and though he wondered if that counted as a loss, he decided that it didn't, and he would only lose if he lost complete control. The wet spot was barely noticeable due to how dark his green clothing was, and would not hinder him in a real battle.

A wave of desperation came over him, almost knocking him over with its sudden force. He groaned a bit at the effort of holding it back, and lost a rather large spurt in the process. He knew that he was going to lose control if he wasn't careful, but he was still convinced that he could hold on just a little bit longer. He had at least beaten his time from last time now; all he had to do was last a bit more for his goal. No problem.

But it was a problem. He could not hold still for even a second, and his leaks became more and more frequent. His bladder was screaming for relief and attempting to get it at all costs. This fight was slowly drifting out of his advantage, and he realized that he would not be able to make his goal no matter how hard he tried. He would have to give up now, and hope for the best next time.

As he began the complicated process of wiggling out of his jumpsuit, he had to let go of himself, which lead to a few more spurts escaping. He would have to pause every few seconds to grab himself again and try to stop this, before resuming his undressing. He had it halfway down, his waist when he was overcome by such a strong wave of desperation that he could not let go anymore. He tried to get his body back under control so that he could resume undressing, but it was all to no avail.

He felt a warmth spread out, over his hands and down one of his legs, and then he felt as the liquid escaped the clothes, soaking through as he pissed himself. He groaned in a mixture of humiliation and relief, wishing that he had been able to get undressed before this had happened, but also so glad that it was over. His bladder took almost a full minute to empty, and when it did, it still ached from being so stretched.

As he stood there in the puddle he had made, which was quickly turning the ground to mud, he had to wonder why he felt good underneath it all. Yes, there was the obvious relief, but there something more to it that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He decided that he would have to try this challenge again sooner rather than later, so that he could figure out exactly what he was feeling.


End file.
